Iris

by Nick Whitesides

  He turns around, standing inches away from me. I close my eyes for a second. Okay, here we go.

  In a flash, I open the window, reach out as far as I can and wrap my arm around his neck. It takes all my strength to lift him off the ground and into the room. He matches me in size, especially after my time spent with Jaak.

  I narrowly lose my grip but manage to hold on, squeezing tightly to keep him from calling for help. He tries to fight but I’m stronger. He punches and kicks and gags without making enough noise to draw attention. Finally after a minute, he loses consciousness.

  I let his body tumble down face first, then feel for a pulse on his neck. “Still alive… Let’s try to keep it that way.” Turning him around, I search for anything useful. I remove his mask, unveiling a deformed face mucked up with dried blood and dirt.

  There’s a canteen hanging from the belt on his side. Could be irradiated. I better not risk it. My ears pick up a distant word being shouted from afar.

  “Syrus. Hey, Syrus!” There goes my element of surprise. With desperate impromptu, I take off his clothes; hoping he has undergarments on. . . he doesn’t. I slip the mask on and replicate his appearance as best I can. As the shouting gets closer, I jump out the window and run towards the intersection with pipe in hand. There’s no way I can fool him with talking. I might have a chance if I stay silent.

  “Did you find ‘em?” he asks, coming into view as I climb up the auto. I shrug my shoulders and shake my head. “Come on, we should let Fash know.” I nod in agreement.

  He pulls out a handgun from his back pocket and holds it out to me. “Just in case ya know?” How ironic. I take it, holding both weapons now. He leads the way, neither of us talking. The number of Blooders increases every block we pass by.

  He waves to some and has them join our party. Then another group and then another. After thirty minutes of walking, I’m surrounded by about thirty large and dangerous-looking men. Some wear masks or scarfs, others don’t need to.

  Hideous faces breathe out reeking odors so disgusting, I have to stop myself from vomiting. The group is very talkative and rowdy, removing any pressure to join in a conversation. Things like “I can’t wait to eat!” or “Everyone will get a portion” or “Grits better make it special tonight.”

  We march past the courthouse and head towards a large colosseum-like structure. “We’ll be back soon enough,” says one particularly large Blooder to my far right. My anxiety skyrockets as the once-empty streets are plagued with Blooders. Through the mask, my eyes water from the smell of smoke mixed with singed flesh.

  Fires burn in metal barrels on every corner, guarded by at least two to three Blooders. An enormous wall constructed from wood, scrap metal and barbed wire, protrudes from behind a collapsed housing complex. This is the Blooders headquarters.

  The walls extend all the way around what used to be the city square and part of an old stadium. At the entrance, stand four men donning body armor, corralling us into a single file line. I never would have thought they were this organized.

  Once you reach the front, the Blooder leans in and says something to one of the four guards. They nod in response and allow them to enter. They have a password system? This is bad! I glance backwards, the big guy is right behind me. If I try to run for it, they’ll kill me for sure.

  The line sifts through quickly. I only have seconds left. Don’t panic, you’ll think of something. My eyes dart around, looking for anything. The Blooder in front of me walks forward and gives the password. I inch closer trying to it pick out of the racket.

  “Wait your turn!” the big one scolds me with a hard push. I take a step back, feeling my sweat stick to face underneath the mask. I wish I could to rip it off. I’m waved over by the next available guard. With another hard shove, “Don’t keep him waiting!” shouts the big one, followed by irreverent laughter from the group.

  My feet amble while my mind races frantically to find a solution. “What’s your problem, ya boar?” asks the guard, somewhat annoyed. I shrug my shoulders, unable to think of a better answer. He gives me a suspicious look before saying, “Who is the greatest among us?”

  I’m going to have to fight my way out. I point to the mask, trying to say I couldn’t hear him. He rolls his eyes and leans in to repeat himself. I’m sorry, Eli.

  I tighten my grip on the pipe, ready to strike. Before I can lift it, the guard and I are both knocked to the ground.

  “What did you call me?” a voice shouts.

  Another answers with a squeaky voice. “You heard me!”

  The two start fighting in the center of the password check. How lucky is that! Some other members filter out from inside the compound and begin cheering. With the guards distracted, I slip inside inconspicuously.

  The area is fairly open, full of pitched tents, fire pits, piles of scrap metal, and garbage. The thick haze of smoke lingers inside from a giant bonfire burning in the compound’s center. On the side of it there’s a stack of burnt bodies. I shake my head and refocus on the task at hand.

  I got lucky. Where do they keep the supplies? To the north end of the compound is a medium-sized cement building. I start off in that direction when a hand slams onto my shoulder.

  “Syrus! What are you’re doing?” It’s the same Blooder from before whose partner I knocked out. “I told you we have to report to Fash. Come on!” He pushes me hard towards another building close by on the east side.

  “You’re acting weird today,” he says with a raspy voice.

  “Where you going, Briggs?” asks a rather short and chubby Blooder. His long mustache and connecting eyebrows catch my eye.

  “We’re going to talk to Fash, Ratte. Don’t bother us,” Briggs replies with an aggressive push.

  Ratte’s round body stumbles and then falls as we continue to move. He jumps up and runs to catch up to us.

  “Why is Syrus so quiet?” he asks with his high-pitched nasally voice.

  “I dunno. He’s probably hungry.”

  “Don’t worry, dinner will be ready in no time,” Ratte says patting my back. “The hunting party haven’t found anything good since that group from the next city over.”

  “They did have lots of supplies,” Briggs nods.

  “It might be awhile before we get another feast like that, but we’ll be eating good tonight!” Ratte exclaims. They both look at me, waiting for a response. They’re already suspicious.

  “Mmm Hmm!” I say as loudly as I can.

  “Now you’re talking, Syrus!” Ratte says. They have people from other cities here? I look back at the charred pile of bodies.

  I hate to think what they’ll do to them, but Eli doesn’t have a lot of time. Either way, once night comes, I’m gone.

  Another pair of guards stop us at the building entrance. “What are you boars here for?” asks the one on the right.

  “We’re here to report something to Fash.”

  “You’ll have to wait. He’s talking to Aiden.”

  “Aiden’s here? What’s going on?” Ratte pesters.

  The guard stares back at him silently.

  “Okay, okay, we got it. Just tell him when he’s done, we gotta speak to him.”

  Briggs escorts us away from the building and back to the bonfire. “Well, I guess we’re done with our post. I’ll have someone take our place. Ratte, keep him company in the meantime.”

  He looks at me awkwardly as the flames crackle. After a minute of silence, I decide to risk talking to him. I clear my throat and try to mimic Syrus’ voice. “Ratte, how long have we known each other?”

  He scratches his chin, rustling the thin hairs that poke out. “Let’s see… You arrived from the other camp like a week ago? So at least a week.”

  Other camp?! How many of them are there? “Where do we keep the supplies? I forgot.”

  He chuckles a shuddery laugh. “I guess, but this is the last time.”

  There’s so many of them despite the open area and not much to do. Some Blooders sit on crudely
made chairs, others exercise, in the far corner, two are fighting bare knuckled without shirts as a crowd cheers them on. Considering their savagery and bloodlust, they are pretty well organized.

  “You feeling ok? You don’t sound too good,” Ratte asks.

  I cough and reply “Not really, I could use some medicine. That’s why I asked.”

  He nods his head. “I gotcha. Yeah, the stockpile is over here.”

  A brown tent is pitched near the south end and guarded by one man in rickety battle gear. He holds out his hand once we’re closer. “You’re not on today’s ration list.” He holds out a notepad, showing a list of poorly-written names.

  “Syrus isn’t feeling good. Don’t worry, Aiden already cleared it.”

  The guard becomes surprised. “Aiden’s here?”

  Ratte nods and he waves us forward. As we enter, I whisper to him, “We didn’t have permission.”

  “Yeah, but that guy’s an idiot!”

  I smile underneath the mask, almost forgetting he’s a part of such a terrifying group. Despite their way of life, the Blooders have managed to survive this long… I can’t help but feel impressed. Inside the tent is a horde of boxes, bags and packs stacked up all the way up to the top. I skim over the whole area. There’s so many items it’s difficult to pinpoint.

  “What’s taking you so long?” Ratte asks. “Just hurry up and grab something.”

  He won’t wait on me forever. I might have to take him out. And this mask is so hot it’s driving me crazy. While browsing through a separate pile, Ratte sticks his fat finger in his nose, pulls out a huge booger and eats it. I turn away out of disgust, then spot a familiar emblem in the back corner.

  Sewn into the front of a black pack, the IRIS symbol. I dive over to it and start opening the front pouch. “What are you doing? We have get out of here!” Ratte whimpers.

  Frustrated, I grab the whole thing and shove it into his chest. “This is what I need.”

  He looks down at it and then back up at me. “We could get killed for this! No one is supposed to take more than their share.”

  I pull out the handgun and point it at him. I’ve had enough. And I’m not leaving here without this. He whimpers and takes the pack, hiding it under his shirt.

  Without looking directly at him, you wouldn’t notice a difference.

  “Let’s go,” I threaten.

  He turns around and exits the tent. I put away the handgun and follow him back out to the smoky center. He is waiting for me when I come out, showing a hurt expression.

  “Ratte, I need to be alone,” I demand and hold out my hand.

  He laughs nervously. “Alright. I’m gonna go see if Briggs needs anything.” With shifty eyes, he pulls up his shirt and I yank the pack away quickly. I have to go now.

  Boom! An explosion goes off in the sky, leaving bright red colors before disappearing. There’s a sudden burst of cheers as all the Blooders run toward the building Briggs took me too. They come out from every corner like a wild herd, swallowing Ratte and I like a wave. I’m forced to move along with them in order to avoid suspicion. They begin chanting together

  “Aiden! Aiden! Aiden!”

  As they gather together, I estimate I’m in the middle of at least a few thousand of the most ruthless killers. Bang! A gunshot fires into the air, quieting the crowd. Even from this distance I recognize the tan coat and faded blonde hair with wisps of silver.

  He lowers his arm, which holds a long silver revolver while the crowd cheers.

  “Fash! Fash! Fash!” He wears a smug grin across his psychotic face. The plastic inside the mask fogs up, my heavy breathing drenched in the vilest hatred. I still have the handgun in my pocket and the pipe.

  I press my hands against the pack as discreetly as possible; the distinct outline of a knife pressing into my hand. Kalen’s knife. I have a lot of options should the opportunity arrive.

  “Shut up, you disgusting, filth-ridden boars!” he bellows. They laugh and cheer more fervently. He shoots again into the air. “I said shut it!”

  The noise of the crowd dies down. “Now. We are honored to be spoken to by the greatest one among us.”

  They all shout together. “Aiden!”

  “He has been our leader!”

  “Aiden!”

  “He has been our father!”

  “Aiden!”

  “Rebirthing us in blood!”

  “Aiden!”

  The two guards from before walk up to the double doors, each grabbing a handle. “I present, the great one, Aiden.”

  The volume triples, making my ears ring from the sheer intensity. The doors open wide as fists fly up into the air while the Blooders roar, scream, whistle, and whoop. Out walks a very tall man standing barely under seven feet.

  His skin is wrinkled, his hair is white with a thin beard hanging from his hardened face. He appears to be older than Eli, though it’s apparent how strong he is, even with clothes on. He puts up a hand to hush the crowd.

  “My sons, I’m especially glad to be with you today. As I understand it, your rations of late have been running low. Your leader Fash, has failed to provide you all with the constant provisions that he promised to give.”

  He shoots Fash a look of disappointment. If only he could see the smile on my face. “Be that as it may, we are preparing for the coming shortages of food. So my sons, tonight we will eat!” They cheer again with deafening applause.

  “Let’s see what’s on the menu!” a large bellied man exits the doorway holding a rusted chain in his hands. A line of people shuffle out behind him. People?! They eat people?!

  “Remember my sons, blood tastes better than water.” The crowd erupts with anticipation while shock erodes my sense of surprise. There’s four of them total, but it’s the last one that makes my mouth drop. Maxis.

  Chapter 16

  Blood and Water

  So that’s why they’re called Blooders. I feel the saliva building up in my mouth as the urge to vomit becomes more and more prevalent. With all the will power I can muster, I force it back down. It takes me a few minutes to get over it.

  Don’t think about it. But even just the thought makes me weak in the knees. I need to keep a cool head so I can rescue Maxis. But will I have to in order to save Eli? The clouds are starting to get darker as the sun sets.

  I stare at Maxis, wishing I could let him know I’m here. Fash leads the prisoners away towards the cement building at the north end. “Syrus, there you are!” Ratte’s shrill voice echoes excitedly. “Come on, let’s volunteer for kitchen duty!”

  I look at him squarely and I nod enthusiastically. Brilliant!

  “I knew you were just hungry,” His tone relaxes. “Volunteers get first pick. Let’s hurry before someone else takes it.” We swim through the crowd with Ratte jogging ahead, wheezing in-between steps. “We call kitchen duty!” he shouts.

  I can’t believe my luck. There’s no way I’d get past them alone. “I can’t wait. Grits hasn’t started yet. But they found some gasoline to cook the meat.” He wipes the drool from his chin after. “Remember, we can’t touch them before Grits tells us otherwise. I know you’re new but this is your first time in the kitchen with livestock.”

  Livestock? Any admiration I had for the Blooders resourcefulness dissolves, replaced with disgust. “Grits only cooks when there’s fresh livestock. The other cooks prep nothing but slop that makes you vomit out your rear for days.”

  I ignore Ratte’s comment, focusing hard not to throw up. Six wide circular pillars hold up the outside of the building like a jail cell. “You boars here for kitchen duty?”

  “Oh, yes!” Ratte yells. The guard scoffs and lets us through to the front door.

  The main chamber is spacious with a tall oval point in the ceiling. The white on the walls has faded away into large brown and yellow spots.

  Ratte and I walk straight through, towards a pair of double doors. He pushes them both hard, swinging forward, then backwards and forwards again. The floors in th
e kitchen are caked with gore and guts. In the middle of the room lay bloody saws, knives and pans with gross textures still stuck to them.

  “Looks like some of the other guys got lazy last week. Grits isn’t going to be happy. And Fash will be here any second.”

  The doors burst open again with Fash holding the chain, dragging Maxis and the others behind. “Don’t just stand there! Help me get them in!”

  Ratte waddles over, taking the chain. “Ugh, I swear,” he murmurs, “Grits better appreciate this.” Ratte pulls them towards to the back of the kitchen, having them stand under an indented oval with a drain in the middle. Three of them are men, and one is a woman but very advanced in years.

  Fash picks up a knife and hands it to Ratte. “You two bleed them so they’re ready to cook.”

  I pull out Kalen’s knife, wanting so badly to sink it into his chest. He passes me without a second thought, exiting the kitchen.

  “Yeah, this should do just fine.” Ratte turns the blade over in his hand. “On your knees!” he yells viciously at them. Their mouths are bound, muffling their barely audible screams of terror. Too weak and broken to resist.

  Maxis looks around in horror, tears staining his thin cheeks. While Ratte is turned away from me, I pull off the mask. Maxis’s face lights up with confusion and joy.

  I mouth the words What are you doing? He shrugs with a tearful smile.

  “Okay, Syrus, I’ll cut their throats while you hold ‘em down. But be prepared, the spray goes everywhere.” He wipes away another stream of drool as the knife presses into one of their necks.

  I’ve had enough. I rush behind Ratte and put him into a choke hold. The prisoners watch in awe, not sure of what’s happening. Ratte drops the knife and claws at me wildly, letting out muffled coughs. I hold firm until he goes limp, then throw him to the floor. His chest still inhaling.

  “More than you deserve,” I declare coldly. I pull out their mouth pieces one by one.